The Boy Who Once Was Robin
by Callypse
Summary: Just because he didn't hear it doesn't mean it was never said. One-shot.


"Neighbors caught him trying to boost the tires off their Mustang. He says he lives here."

Jason scowled and tried to tug his arm free from the police officer's iron grip, eyes refusing to leave the polished floor. Bruce could clearly see the beat cop's skepticism as he contrasted the boy's ragamuffin appearance with the splendor of the Manor's grand entrance. The man turned to leave, pushing Jason ahead of him.

"I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Wayne. I can see now that – "

"He's mine," Bruce announced.

Both the cop and Jason halted, turning with matching bewildered expressions to the bathrobed billionaire. Jason's eyes quickly found the floor again as Bruce stepped forward and pulled Jason away from the cop and to his own side.

"I'll settle things with the Drakes in the morning," Bruce continued. "Thank you for bringing Jason home safely." The steel in his smile left no room for discussion, and the officer left with a shake of his head.

Jason wrenched himself free as soon as the door closed, mostly for show, Bruce thought. The boy didn't seem to know where to look, and he hugged his arms tightly across his chest.

"I've been to jail before," he muttered. "You didn't have to say that."

"You'd have preferred that I lie?"

Jason's eyes finally snapped up, glaring daggers. "You don't own me!"

"You know better than that, Jason."

Jason's cheeks crimsoned slightly as he dropped his gaze again. Wordlessly he kicked off his shoes and darted up the stairs, pausing on the landing and turning just enough so Bruce could see his face.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and then he was gone.

:::

"Based off his teacher's report it's a wonder I haven't seen Jason before today, Mr. Wayne," the principal said. "I understand this must be a terrible burden, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to come down and deal with this situation. Unless there's someone else we can call?"

Bruce squeezed the bridge of his nose and lowered the phone with a groan.

"Amelie," he called, waiting for his secretary's head to pop in the door. "Cancel my afternoon, will you?" He ignored her pointed eyebrow as he picked up the receiver again.

"He's mine," Bruce sighed. "I'll be down as soon as I can."

:::

"He's shown a tremendous aptitude for the work, Mr. Wayne," the camp counselor said. "The kids just love him."

Bruce allowed himself a small smile at the sight of Jason, covered in mud, teaching a young girl in pigtails how to successfully navigate the rope ladder portion of the obstacle course.

"I have to admit I was surprised he decided to stay on longer," the counselor went on. "Most of the kids we get through the community service program just put in their 80 hours and are never seen again. But Jason seems to have really found his niche."

There was a yell as both Jason and the girl fell off the ladder and into the mud. Bruce could see the tears in the girl's eyes from where he stood and moved as if to help, but the counselor's hand against his chest stayed him.

"Just watch," he said.

Jason leaned forward and whispered something in her ear before flinging himself dramatically into the mud. The girl giggled, and when he came up again he seized her under the arms and tossed her overhead into a dramatic splash of her own. When the girl's delighted shrieks finally died down, he guided her back to the rope ladder to try again.

"Hard to believe that's the same kid who came through here a month ago, eh? You sure he's yours?"

"He's mine," Bruce murmured. "And he's surprising me too."

The counselor clapped him on the back before moving off to join the rest of his group. "You should be very proud of your boy, Mr. Wayne," he called over his shoulder.

Bruce looked back to find Jason watching him and gave him a wave. Jason grinned widely from the top of the rope ladder and waved back.

"I always am."

:::

Bruce tried to keep the images in his mind from showing on his face as the sheet was slowly pulled back. He couldn't look. He couldn't see it again.

"Mr. Wayne?"

He forced his eyes open and onto the cold, still face of the boy who once was Robin.

"Mr. Wayne? Can you confirm this is Jason Todd?"

Bruce nodded. He felt like he was going to be sick.

The coroner drew the sheet back over Jason's face, and Bruce couldn't fight his tears any longer. He clutched at the table for support, fingers digging into the white shroud that separated the living from the dead.

"What would you like to do with the remains?" she asked softly.

Bruce choked back a sob.

"He's mine," he whispered. "I'll take him home."

_Sad Jason Times. Poor guy. Thanks for stopping by, and feedback is always appreciated._


End file.
